


Not Only Silence

by planet_plantagenet



Category: Hamlet - Shakespeare
Genre: Afterlife, Angst, Death, Gen, Multi, Past Character Death, Post-Canon, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 20:11:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7815457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planet_plantagenet/pseuds/planet_plantagenet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The rest is silence….”</p><p>Hamlet and Laertes talk in the afterlife. Hamlet feels bad about how he treated everyone while he was alive. Hamlet’s POV.<br/>Kind of a ghost!Hamlet thing I guess?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Only Silence

The first thing I noticed was the calm. It was as if the tumultuous sea of my mind had suddenly been transformed into a tranquil lake. Thoughts that should’ve been panicked, hysterical, were now serene, rational.

 _Horatio,_ was my first thought, and I dipped my vision back into the world I’d come from. I saw Horatio holding my dead body, tears pouring down his face. Explaining my story, in choked sobs, to Fortinbras.

The cup of poison lay overturned at the edge of the room, its deep red contents spilling out across the floorboards.

I sighed inaudibly. Horatio wouldn’t be able to follow me into this undiscovered country. At least not yet.

*

Time and space were tangled up, confused, in this new world. Horatio might’ve called it a fourth or fifth dimension. I noticed other people meandering through the misty realm. Dead like me, I assumed. I didn’t recognize anyone.

I spent my time in Elsinore, in the living world—sitting in my room, in the hallways, in the garden—watching the people go by. I wasn’t actually there, of course, but I enjoyed the feeling of it. With the entire royal family dead, there was the unmistakable, irrefutable feel of change in the air. Norwegian soldiers were everywhere, and I spent a good amount of time watching Fortinbras slowly work his way into the foundation of Denmark.

But most of my time was spent on Horatio. I watched as he struggled to cope with all the deaths—especially mine. He drew portrait after portrait, staining them with ink drops and teardrops.

And then he would talk to himself. Usually I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but sometimes I could, and it made my eyes sparkle with intangible tears.

Because Horatio had loved me, and I’d been too caught up in my hatred and revenge to realize I loved him back.

*

One day I was sitting in the main hall, where the duel had happened only a week before. I could almost sense the morbid feeling in the air. Four people had died here, including myself. Perhaps that was why I kept returning to this place, almost as if drawn here.

I slowly became aware of a presence to my right. It was a minute before I looked over, noticing that Laertes had quietly slipped into the living world and sat down next to me. He looked exactly as he had the day before he’d died, with his orange Star Wars t-shirt and long, dark hair dyed bright blue.

It was a while before either of us spoke. Then he shifted his position, looked at me with his piercing brown eyes.

“It’s been bothering me for a while,” he began softly, “and I guess now is as good a time as any.”

“Yes?”

Laertes paused. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but you were a real prick when you were alive.”

I started, frowned, then suddenly laughed. “Well, you’re not wrong.”

He blinked in surprise at my acceptance of the insult. “Dude, I’m serious. You really hurt my feelings.”

I was tempted to retort with something along the lines of _Well, you tried to kill me!_ but decided against it. He was right. “I know. Those weeks after Polonius died were hard on both of us. I was an asshole. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks for apologizing.” Laertes smiled slightly. He opened his mouth, perhaps about to say more, but closed it.

For a while, we sat there. It was calm, quiet—yet I could feel some tension in the air. It was not new for me to be acting like a douchebag towards Laertes, and he knew that all too well.

But now, I just hoped he would forgive me.

Laertes’s eyes were fixed somewhere in the distance. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “I loved you once.”

My nonexistent heartbeat quickened.

He continued. “Before your dad’s death. Before all this shit went down. I thought we could have a future together.” He looked up at me. It was impossible for him to disguise the hurt in his voice. “So, now that we’re both dead and our bodies are rotting in the ground… tell me. Did you ever feel the same way about me?”

It was a second before I answered. “In all honesty… no.”

Laertes stood abruptly. “Well. That’s that, I suppose.” He began walking towards the door, but I jumped up and caught his hand.

“I’m sorry, Laertes.”

He jerked his hand away. “That doesn’t change what you did.”

“I know! I’m not saying it does! I just want us to—”

“Ophelia.” His voice was deadly quiet. “What about her? Did you ever love her?”

I felt my anger rising, but managed to keep my voice calm. “Yes. Yes I did. And I like to think that she loved me back. But I hurt her. And I hurt you. And I wish I could go back and change all of that, but I can’t. So an apology is going to have to do.”

Laertes didn’t speak for a second. His brown eyes bore into mine. “I’d really like to believe you’re sincere, Hamlet. I wish I could. But I’m just… really confused right now.”

“You don’t know what to think?”

He nodded slowly.

“Join the club.”

Suddenly Laertes froze, his eyes fixed on a spot behind me. I turned, starting as I saw Horatio and Osric walking through the door at the back of the room. They were talking about something—drawing techniques, was it?—but I barely heard them. My attention was focused on Laertes’ face. His eyebrows were raised, mouth slightly agape as he watched the two men make their way across the room.

Horatio suddenly stopped walking. At first I thought he had seen us, but instead he gestured at the ceiling, explaining to Osric how Fortinbras planned to have it all repainted.

As the two of them talked, Laertes crept up to Osric. He ran his trembling fingers across the boy’s cheek, his expression a mix of wonder and horror.

“He cried so much after I died,” Laertes whispered, and the look on his face said it all.

I looked at Horatio, who, just a couple of days ago, had been a complete mess as well. I wanted so badly for him to acknowledge my presence. I could touch him, but he wouldn’t feel a thing. I wanted to kiss him and tell him that I was still here, that I hadn’t forgotten him, that he wasn’t alone….

Then Horatio began walking again, Osric following suit. The two of them disappeared out the other door. Laertes’ gaze trailed after them. He seemed to be blinking back tears.

“I treated them both like shit,” I said quietly. “To me, Osric was an obnoxious servant and Horatio was a crutch. How could I ever apologize now? To all of them?” I looked up at Laertes. “To you?”

Silently, Laertes took my hand and gently squeezed it. It was more a symbol of empathy than of affection, and I was grateful.

“I accept your apology,” he said, and smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> As also referenced in my fic "Water-fly", I think Hamlet and Laertes were once together—but Hamlet dumped him. It would explain why he has that whole speech to Ophelia about how she shouldn't trust Hamlet. ;)


End file.
